Waiting for God
by Bones-lite
Summary: My 1st fic. Oneshot stemmed from a whim at 3am in another bout of insomnia. It was originally going to be a few chapters double-plotline thing under the title 'Waiting for God' so the title would make more sense in that scenario...


In the emptiness of the apartment were silence ruled, she didn't even pardon a look around or out the large window behind her.

Storms had been forecast.

It was near enough to midnight.

But neither had any effect on the woman who sat wordlessly on her sofa.

Usually at this hour, Temperance Brennan would be busying herself with work or preparing for bed. Or in some circumstances be out still. However all of these activities had a running theme behind them...

They depended what Booth was doing.

Recently, she had acknowledged this; the fact she ran off his agenda despite being the independent, self-made woman she was.

And that thought came very close to scaring her.

Inhaling deeply, which created a loud sniff; she attempted to swipe away angrily the handful of tears that had escaped down her cheeks.

It was absurd, _irrational._ She had lived without Booth before.

'_That was before you met.'_ A small voice stated inside her head, which she silenced. Though it was only a brief pause before she actually thought it over. It was true. Since she'd started working with Booth, she'd not live in his absence long. Even if it was just a phone call, a text, or dropping by just to say 'hi.' And finally, she caved in and agreed with the annoying voice that had niggled her the last week.

"It's true." She mumbled, as a tear slipped out the corner of her eye unnoticed, bending forward so she stared down at the floor, hands linked and forearms resting on her knees. She even found herself scoffing to herself in the lifeless quiet. "And those 2 weeks I _did_ live without him were hell." She reminded herself faintly. The small voice agreeing vehemently. She gritted her teeth as another tear fell; and a fist clenched angrily and shifted to her side_._ She scoffed inwardly once more, as bitter memories arose and swam around her mind like a blisteringly cold lake that had she had forbidden herself to enter for a long time now.

She lifted her head and sat upright, sniffing agitatedly and surveying her apartment as if somehow it would help her gain control.

Though eventually her eyes drifted to the coffee table in front of her, and a single breath caught in her throat. A hand fluttered to her mouth in reflex as her eyelids began to burn. Her heart refusing to beat until she finally let out a forced breath. The specially dedicated second book lay open in front of her, and in the frigid breeze drifting in from an open window nearby, the pages flapped and gently flipped with a life of their own until they reached the first page. Purely coincidentally, revealing the small print dedicating the book to her friend. And near the bottom, she finally noticed something she hadn't seen before. With nervously shaking fingertips, she reached out, and lifted the book gingerly. Bringing it to her lap and examining the scrap of paper that had been tacked in with such care and precision, it was no wonder it had evaded her attention. Eyes following what were unmistakably his characteristic scrawl. However, even she could tell by the way it was shaped and made to flow, it was his neatest handwriting. And it was. In clear letters, there was just a simple, cheerful note thanking her in a typically egotistical way, and wishing her the best. Like his own dedication to her. Now the tears fell freely, and one splashed down on the corner of the newfound note. Dabbing it quickly and drying her cheeks, she tried to take a stuttering but cleansing breath. Although it wasn't after she had also gulped harshly that she was a little better, and tore her gaze from the page to try and distract herself.

Her eyes met two others. A pair of happy, painted eyes.

Biting her lip now, and mentally kicking herself for gathering the items in an attempt to engross in pleasant memories and divert her attention from her current situation.

"Hello Jasper." She whispered hoarsely to the small farm animal. Her 'pet' pig gave no answer, but just him and the reason she owned him caused new watery embodiments of her emotions to flow free. This time, she didn't attempt to stop them, just closed the book to prevent any possible damage to the precious object.

The thunder and persisting rain remained unnoticed by the anthropologist as new notions floated aimlessly to mind and another aeon stretched on.

It may have been a few minutes, possibly even hours when an abrupt noise shattered her subconscious and sent her reeling back into reality.

Her door.

The several muffled knocks reverberated around the large, almost-unoccupied room. For once, Brennan could admit she was alarmed. Rationality tried to reason, but asked; _who could be knocking so late?_

Taking hold of the nearest heavy object as a precaution, she brought herself to stand and hesitantly headed for the door. Keeping as quiet as a mouse, she crept forward and paused. Peering through the peephole, she fought a strangled gasp when she was met with a tall, solid silhouette in a similarly dark hall. Adrenalin deciding to flood through her system at last, her head snapped round only to confirm her fears.

No lights.

The power had gone out whilst she was reminiscing. The only light flickering and dancing oblivious from several candles she had lit previously that evening in a vain attempt to relax. Her knuckles grew white as she tightened her grip on the book she held. However she stood tall and reasserted herself. She was doctor Temperance Brennan! She had faced worse than an unexpected visitor!

'_True... But how many times has Booth saved you now?'_ The small voice persisted, but she throttled it into silence by opening the door and taking two paces back to maintain a safe distance. The door hit the wall with a deep, resounding thud and the figure stepped across the threshold, stopped and tensed. Even without the use of light, Brennan assumed they had spotted her defensive posture and the book held high as a threat; ready to swing it round with all her strength to make painful contact if necessary. She was preparing to step forwards menacingly, when the strangers arms rose.

Not aggressively.

Not defensively.

In surrender.

Brennan lowered the book, wearing a bemused expression. Straining to try and see the newcomer in the very dim light, but whoever it was, was hidden by the shadows thrown by the hallway and door towards them. However, as she struggled to see, she thought the black shape took a man's form. A somewhat familiar…

"Bones?" The question threw her, decimating all thoughts as the person's head clearly shifted to try and see.

It took less than a second for her to fail withholding a gasp at the _very_ familiar voice, shudder, and not because she was now feeling the cold on her damp flesh and shirt.

"BOOTH!" She demanded, forgetting the time. A familiar, passionate fury gripping her and the book rose aggressively once more, icy blue eyes blazing.

But Booth's hands were thrown up faster in the same gesture of surrender,

"I'm breaking protocol!" he stated, voice rising in pitch from being hurried so harshly, face turning away from her and eyes forced shut as he braced himself for the same clout he had suffered when he had seemingly disappeared before.

' _But this time she has a book. Great going, Seeley.'_ His conscience scolded unsympathetically.

But the blow never came.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and peeked towards her cautiously; face turning back towards her at the same rate as his arms dropped. The barely illuminated features of his partner still held unspoken rage, but her nose had lined in her characteristic confused expression, usually accompanied with "I don't know what that means." The book had returned to her side, but he still threw a wary glance towards it.

A tic appeared in his jaw, though he opened his mouth to speak. No words came.

"What?" The simple query tugged at his heartstrings, she sounded like a lost little girl.

His throat dried, so he shut his eyes and swallowed. Hoping God had heard his plea and granted him this favour for strength.

"I'm breaking protocol." He repeated uselessly into the tense silence. Which continued. With a sigh, and nervously quivering fingertips, he tried to continue; despite the realization his voice had cracked and failed him. "I shouldn't be here." He announced clearly. Even Brennan could tell he was anxious by his stiff voice and the way he fidgeted uncomfortably before checking around him.

"I'm breaking protocol, and the law." Booth managed, voice low as if somehow, by whispering as if someone would pass and arrest him. Yet in such a storm and during the early hours of the morning, no-one in shouting-range would have heard. "I made you a promise." Finally, he cut to the chase. "I'm sorry it wasn't sooner, but I'm here." Realization crept through Brennan's mind and picked at her grey matter, but Booth failed to notice as he continued. "All that while ago, with the whole incident when the bureau faked my death and you stormed into my bathroom about it…" He paused to gather his failing thoughts and inhale deeply. A sheepish fidget going unnoticed by his partner. "I vowed next time I died, I'd come tell you. So…" He finished awkwardly, still on edge but he'd somehow gained confidence in himself since he started. Shrugging to try and feign nonchalance and failed. He was uneasy.

Brennan felt another breath catch in her throat, but before she could open her mouth to say anything, a crackle interrupted her. And slowly, as if as unsure as her partner, the lights flickered on around them. Causing both to look around in surprise; and at last, the two could examine each other.

Booth's face was paler than usual, and tired. His hair and clothing soaked and some droplets still clung to strands of his short-cropped hair like shattered crystals; after what she only assumed to have been waiting outside until finding the spare key and working his way into the apartment building without being noticed. However somewhere, she could trace the ghost of his smile on despite his expression like a misplaced, scared young boy. Still, he seemed handsome to her, and her eyelids burnt at the sight. Somewhere, she urged to hold him and insist all was well, and they were going to be okay.

Booth could now see her own mixed, expressioned face. Alabaster skin coursed with snail-trails of tears both fresh and drying. Eyes rimmed red from crying and her hair framed her face and giving the illusion of being paler. He even noticed what she had held as a makeshift weapon just moments before. Despite its violent purpose, his insides gave a small flip at the realization of what it really was.

She had been thinking of him!

'_Well of course, you abandoned her.' _His mind scolded, and it stung him. Once more he silenced it.

_I can try and make it better._ His mind combated itself, unsure, but determined and bold.

Booth opened his mouth to speak.

To draw a breath?

To talk and reason?

To apologize?

He didn't even know, but was still interrupted.

Brennan had dropped the book, and closed the space between them before he could decide. Her arms flinging round his neck in an unexpected hug. It took him several second to catch up, before he wrapped his arms around her smaller frame gently. Her head on his shoulder, and her own shoulders quivered as a fresh tears fell. He rested his head beside hers, eyes shutting slowly. Before he could do anything, her head tipped marginally to offer space to speak. "Thank you, Booth." She whispered, an awkward smile playing across her lips before her face merged into the curve where his neck met his broad shoulder once more.

The simpleness and sincerity of the gesture and phrase froze him, heart and breathing stopping and he held her tighter. Burying his face in her hair. Hiding the tears that now started to fall.

"You're welcome, Bones."


End file.
